


Dissolution

by lxghtwoodlxve



Series: Angsty Oneshots/Drabbles by Trin [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Ashes Scene in Avengers: Infinity War Part 1, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, How Do I Tag, Infinity War, Introspection, Peter... Doesn't Feel So Good, Please Don't Hate Me, This Is Sad, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark POV, You Have Been Warned, and so did i!!, but then i thought 'fuck it' and finished it three months later, depressing is the other way, drabble? i guess?, i mean i took peter's death and went chaotic evil all over it, i was sad when i started this, intense is one way to put it, it's been a while since i posted i'm sorry, thanos snapped, when i say this is dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 21:01:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16730544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lxghtwoodlxve/pseuds/lxghtwoodlxve
Summary: Tony doesn't want to believe that everyone will be taken from him.But then Thanos snapped.





	Dissolution

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is... this is dark. this is very dark. i was in a bad place when i started this, and i finished it this afternoon, in a slightly less bad place, and i thought... well. here we go!!  
> trigger warnings: death, loss, tony stark's issues, and some very minor gory imagery. no actual gore, though.  
> please stay safe, take care of yourselves, and thank you for reading! comments are much appreciated, though not required.  
> thank you, loves!  
> -t <3

Sometimes Tony wishes he’d never gone to Afghanistan. It’s more often than not – he’s a better man, sure, but was all that suffering worth it? Was all the death, and misery, and loss, and love, worth it?

Not for this price.

Strange was always going to play the long game. Play for the right end. Over a million timelines seen, over a million of his own deaths, of his loved one’s deaths, but he’d come out looking for the one. Tony really hoped he was following through – the fight, his wound, everything, was over. A short ten minutes and Quill, Drax, Mantis, almost everyone, dead. He thought it was over. Thought he’d had Peter, at least, to help, thought he’d had someone, thought the universe hadn’t just taken everything from him.

He wouldn’t know about Pepper, about Steve, about Bruce. All he’d know is that Nebula and Peter were left with him.

“Mr Stark?” Confusion. Pure and simple. And then: “Mr Stark, I don’t feel so good?”

Pain. That’s all Tony could see on Peter’s face. Not his boy, not the boy he knew, not the same being. This was dissolution.

It was all Tony could do to catch him. To feel the desperation, the adrenaline, in Peter’s fingers as his boy clutched for his suit, clutched for an escape that wasn’t there.

No-one else had felt pain. Tony wondered to, cursed at, _loathed_ the merciless God who’d given this pure being such a cruel end. What had he done? What had Peter done to deserve such misery? He deserved to get old, and grey, and have kids (if that’s what he wanted) and get married (if that’s what he wanted) and to… to _live._

“ _I_ _don’t wanna go,”_ Peter cried, almost sobbing, scrabbling for purchase, grasping to stay stood, to stay here, and Tony’s heart, what was left of it, broke. It was like the plaintive cries he’d heard in his dream that morning, the child he’d never have with Pepper refusing to go to preschool. That had had a happiness, and fond exhaustion to it, but this was fear, agony, helplessness, everything he’d felt in that airport fight – only elevated, turned up to a hundred, forged and made into a weapon so sharp it could cut air, and then viciously stabbed into his chest.

“I don’t wanna _go._ ”

This hurt far more. These weren’t the sad cries of a grumpy child, like he wished they were – these were the desperate cries of a man refusing to resign himself to his fate, the fear of a wolf with an antler in his belly, the loathing of a God-fearing man in Hell. Inevitable. Inescapable. But Peter still looked at him the same, even if his body was dissolving right before Tony’s very eyes, even if Tony had to lay him down like he’d been shot (and wouldn’t that be better? Back on Earth, with a wound you can heal from?).

The knife in his chest twisted. What was he doing? Wallowing in self-pity when his own found son is disappearing, just turning to ash under his hands, and he wants to make a sound, he really does, but all he can manage is a pained gasp and he’s clutching at whatever he can, but it’s not enough – he leaving, and he can’t do a damn thing.

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” Peter murmured, making watery, pained eye contact, and Tony saw his hand (what was left of his hand) come up, try to grab him, but he just… he left. He was gone. All that was left of his boy, his sidekick, his _son_ , was the ash on his hands and the dust on his face. Non-existent wind was blowing it everywhere, scattering it over the rocks and rust and red, and he couldn’t breathe. He shouldn't be here. He couldn't be here. He tried to stand but the world lurched, and he fell.

What he could hear, past the ringing in his ears, and his constricting chest, and the blood pumping out of his wound, was nothing. Nothing from the others, because there weren’t any others. Just ash and misery, and a shocked gasp from Nebula.

He broke.

  



End file.
